Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
Sophie was at Agata’s house with the group of people she realised she had just thought of in her head as ‘the Gang’. It made her smile, but that’s what the quite eccentric combination of herself and Tamar, with Agata, Olive and Charlie – and Rey and Cicely when they were around – were to her now, and it meant a lot.
They met up regularly for dinners at each other’s houses, which were always a hoot. So far there had been several at Sophie’s and Olive’s and a couple at Charlie’s and Rey’s, but this was the first at Agata’s house – and it was the caviar and vodka setup of legend.
On this occasion Yewande had joined them too and they were gathered in Agata’s sitting room, drinking Charlie’s sparkling wine while Olive and Beau were busy making blinis in the kitchen. Everyone was wearing seventies clothing.
It had been Tamar’s idea for them to dress in keeping with the décor of the house, after Agata had let her loose in her wardrobe one afternoon and she’d found it filled with vintage treasures. Tamar was wearing an Empire-line orange satin dress with three layers of fluttery sleeves and a silky crocheted hat pulled down low, her mass of curly hair springing out from underneath. Both hat and dress were original Biba.
‘Doesn’t she look beautiful?’ said Agata. ‘I used to look beautiful in that dress too. I wore it with high platform shoes, which is why it is long enough for Tamar with those terrible boots.’
Tamar laughed and lifted her leg to waggle a Doc Marten in Agata’s direction.
The old lady was wearing another Biba outfit, grey and white print palazzo pants and a matching fitted blouse, her hat a floppy grey felt with a turned-back brim, trimmed with a silk rose.
Cicely had on an antique Afghan dress with mirror embroidery and Charlie was sporting a blue velvet suit with a satin shirt – the collar pulled out over the revers of the jacket. It was all quite convincing until his feet, where he was sporting brown brogues.
Agata was looking at him thoughtfully as he went round refreshing everyone’s glasses.
‘Where did you get that terrible suit?’ she asked him.
‘It was knocking around at home.’
‘Come closer,’ said Agata and she inspected the top-stitching around the cuffs and bottom of the jacket. ‘It looks like real 1970s,’ she said. ‘They haven’t made trousers that tight since then – thank God.’
‘It probably is from then,’ said Cicely. ‘There are loads of old clothes hanging around the house. Where did you find it, Charlie?’
‘Oh, it was in a random wardrobe, along with this shirt, which I think is actually a blouse. It’s got darts.’
Sophie was wearing a short silver lamé dress – not too mini, she hoped – that she’d found in a vintage shop in Norman Road, with a pair of high-heeled platform sandals she already had. The one hundred per cent manmade fabric was scratchy against her skin and she was feeling rather self-conscious. Her legs were still brown from days at the beach hut, which was something, but it was so long since she’d got properly dressed up, she felt rather exposed. She pulled the skirt down as far over her knees as it would go.
Beau popped in to tell them the food wouldn’t be long. Despite his lack of hair, he was quite successfully channelling a rock god vibe, with heavy, black, Keith Richards eyeliner, a deliberately too small t-shirt and flared black-satin trousers that he’d found in the same shop where Sophie had got her dress. True to the style of the era, he clearly wasn’t wearing any underwear with them. Sophie had had to bite her lip not to laugh when she saw Tamar and Yewande creasing up about it, obviously thinking no one would know why they were laughing.
Agata didn’t hold back.
‘So you are not circumcised, I see, Beau,’ she said and everybody roared.
Charlie headed out of the room to get another bottle of fizz and Sophie noticed Tamar, Yewande and Beau having a confab, then they all got up and left the room together, giggling. She looked at Cicely and Agata.
‘What do you think they’re up to?’
‘Who knows?’ said Cicely. ‘But isn’t this fun? There’s nothing like wearing silly clothes to get a party going.’
‘Wait until we start on the vodka,’ said Agata.
Sophie went upstairs to use the loo and as she passed Agata’s bedroom she could hear young giggly voices within. She stopped to listen at the door. Not to snoop, just for the joy of it.
‘The thing is, Charlie,’ Yewande was saying, ‘we think you ace that suit and you’d look really good with rock star eyeliner like Beau’s got on.’
‘You little shits,’ Charlie said, starting to laugh. ‘I have seen Pirates of the Caribbean , you know...’
‘Oh, go on,’ said Tamar. ‘It would look so great on you. You’re such a dude. And with that groovy suit, it would be seriously cool.’
‘Alright, then,’ said Charlie. ‘I submit to youth’s ritual humiliation of maturity – it is a tradition, after all.’
They were quiet for a few moments and then there was a collective ‘Yay!’ so Sophie assumed the deed was done.
‘That’s annoying,’ said Beau. ‘You look better than me.’
‘As Johnny said to Keef?’ said Charlie. ‘No? OK. Google it.’
Sophie scooted off before she could be caught eavesdropping and as she was going down the stairs again, she saw that Agata and Cicely were on their way to the kitchen, summoned by Olive, so called back to the others.
‘Olive wants us at the table,’ she said, just as Charlie appeared at the top of the stairs.
Sophie’s eyebrows shot up when she saw him. He had heavy black eyeliner round his eyes – and it really did suit him.
He arrived at her side and put out his arm. ‘May I escort you into dinner?’
Sophie put her arm through his and felt an unfamiliar sensation roll over her cheeks. She was blushing.
There was no seating plan, beyond Olive claiming the chair closest to the working part of the kitchen and Sophie sat down next to her place, so she’d be able to help easily.
Charlie appeared at her side, putting eight chilled shot glasses on the table. ‘Save this spot for me, would you?’ he said, patting the back of the chair next to hers. ‘I need to be in pole position for the drinks service. Olive has given me my orders.’
He was soon back, holding up a frosted bottle of vodka. ‘Who’s for a shot of bonkers juice?’ he said. He opened the bottle and reached over to fill Agata’s glass first, then went round the table.
Beau arrived with the plate of blinis, followed by Olive holding a round blue tin with a small spoon sticking out of it.
‘Eggs for dinner, kids,’ she said, leaning over to pass it to Agata. ‘You go first, Ags – show everyone how to do it.’
‘But you are my guests,’ said Agata.
‘Stop trying not to eat and get it down you,’ said Olive, taking her seat.
‘So,’ said Agata, ‘take one blini, one spoon of sour cream, like so... and then, the heaven.’ She scooped out a spoonful of the shiny black eggs, put it on the top and then placed the whole thing delicately on her plate. ‘But I won’t eat it yet – thank you, Olive – not until everyone is served and then we will have a toast. See this spoon?’ she said, holding it up. ‘It is mother of pearl, never metal with caviar.’
She handed the spoon and tin to Cicely. ‘And now you.’
The tin went round the table, with everyone excitedly constructing their blinis.
Sophie turned to Charlie as he passed the tin to her and was surprised all over again by his eyeliner.
‘It really suits you,’ she said. ‘That eyeliner. You look like Adam Ant – the later years. In a hot way.’
Charlie’s hands flew up to his face. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten all about it. I hope I remember to take it off in the morning and don’t go out to the farm with it on. The kids did it to me.’
‘Of course they did,’ said Sophie. ‘Well, I like it and think you should always wear it.’
She realised she was still gazing at him when Agata spoke.
‘Charlie,’ she said. ‘If I’m not interrupting...’
Sophie turned towards Agata. What was she doing? She hadn’t even had any vodka yet.
‘I am old and I am old-fashioned,’ Agata continued. ‘So as the senior man here, Charlie, I would like you to propose the first toast.’
‘It would be an honour,’ he said, standing up. ‘Now everyone has their blinis and, more importantly, their caviar, I propose a toast to our wonderful friend and hostess, Agata, for her generosity in spoiling us with this very special treat and for being such a wonderful human being. Right, down in one, all. Cheers!’
‘Cha cha!’ said Tamar.
‘Mma manu!’ said Yewande.
‘Na zdravi!’ said Agata.
‘Chin-chin!’ said Cicely.
‘Up yer bum!’ said Olive.
And they all sank their shots.
After three more rounds of blinis with the accompanying vodka, the caviar was finished and Olive got up – a bit unsteadily – to see to the rest of the dinner, while Beau and Yewande cleared the plates.
Charlie got up to get more drinks and when he arrived back at the table, he leaned in close to Sophie.
‘I hope Agata isn’t one of those hostesses who makes people change place between courses,’ he said. ‘Because I’m very happy just here.’
‘I’m happy you’re happy and I’m happy too,’ Sophie heard herself say, then jumped up to help Olive serve the next course, grateful for a moment to collect her thoughts. She and Charlie were blatantly flirting with each other. And she liked it.
Was a Gridow allowed to do that? There must be a rule of at least a year, surely. But for a Wronged Woman, all bets were off. In fact, she was entitled to it.
It was all so confusing. Especially after the vodka.
When she sat down again, the conversation had gone back to what they were wearing, and Agata was regaling them with a story of buying her first dress from Mary Quant in 1961.
‘You were asking earlier, Agata, where I got this suit?’ said Charlie.
Agata nodded. ‘Maybe it’s not too late for refund?’
‘I think it is,’ he said. ‘My very cool older cousin, who I totally hero worshipped, had it for his eighteenth birthday party in 1973 and I thought it was the bee’s bollocks. A few years later, he very kindly gave it to me and I couldn’t ever bring myself to chuck it out. He always said it was his best pulling suit.’
And he turned to Sophie and downed his vodka in one, his eyes never leaving hers.